


It Isn't Always Like This

by Adeadfish



Category: Enderal
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hyra is sad, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Rated T for Serious Things, She isn't handling things great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeadfish/pseuds/Adeadfish
Summary: Hyra does some thinking about her current situation. Her head isn't in the best place.
Kudos: 6





	It Isn't Always Like This

**Author's Note:**

> A short thing I wrote as practice for character description that got vaguely dark. I think it's a good view into the mind of someone who just found out they're basically dead. 
> 
> All characters except Hyra are owned by SureAI.

She stared at herself in the mirror.

Just stared. Not searching for anything in particular, just noticing little things about herself.

Her red hair had grown quite bit since washing up on Enderal. It was now tied tightly in a bun on top her head, loose strands flying free aroud her face. She used to barely be able to tie it into a ponytail. It was easier to keep her hair short back then, it meant less for someone to grab when they were angry.

Her face was still young and full of freckles, but the deep tan in her skin from travel had accentuated the dark circles under her eyes. It hurt a little to see those. A reminder of the nightmares and the sleepless nights. A reminder of the hollow feelings in her chest at night when all she could hear was her breathing and the fireplace crackling.

Her shoulders were slumped, posture poor as always. She was no noble, that was for sure. And the Sublime of Ark had no problem reminding her of that daily. Fuck them, she always thought, but right now she couldn't be bothered to feel malice toward them. 

She couldn't be bothered to feel, really.

Her arms were clearly well muscled, despite her smaller frame. She hadn't checked her height in a long time, but she thought it was somewhere in the five foot range, on the shorter side. There was a lot of muscle required to swing her blades though, so that wasn't all that surprising.

If she was in her usual mood, she might have convinced herself that she was beautiful, sexy, a force of nature.

But now she fixed her gaze on her eyes.

Grey, lifeless, empty.

Just like her.

Maybe her father in the dreams was right? Maybe it would be better to rot under the ground with them, let the worms make use of her unnatural body. Let the world come to it's end. What was the point? We all just return to the dirt at some point anyway.

No, she thought, closing her eyes. She couldn't damn all of humanity just because she was less than human.

She was a puppet. A pawn in a sick game played by sick gods who had a sick sense of humor.

And the whole thing made her sick.

She forced herself to move, and she shifted forward in her chair. Leaning forward to rub her eyes and slap her cheeks slightly to feel something other than the growing detatchment in her chest.

It wasn't always like this, but when it was, it threatened to overtake her good senses and throw her from a building.

Not that it would change anything. They'd probably make another dopleganger and pupeteer her instead.

Was she even herself?

"Hyra?"

Tharaêl's voice jolted her from her thoughts. 

"Yeah?", she shouted back, her voice sounding strange in her ears.

"I grabbed dinner from the tavern, feel like joining me?"

She smiled a little despite herself. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was her friends and their equally terrible and incredible timing. She could hang up this line of thinking for now and just enjoy some food and wine with a lovely aeterna that just so happened to be her friend and confidant.

It's not always like this, because she has people there to keep her safe from herself.


End file.
